


happy in the nighttime, howlin' at the moon

by goreallegore



Series: i wanna make you happy (wanna make you feel alive) [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:02:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreallegore/pseuds/goreallegore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They fall into step as they steer across the pavement to the cross-light waiting for it to go green with the little pixelated guy still red and in a still position. The sky is clear tonight which is pretty average for late July but the crisp wind still has the girl beside her pulling the cuffs of her sleeves to her palms, and if it was someone else Niall wouldn’t have but something has her shrugging off her own jacket and handing it over to the girl.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or; there's a bar, a vampire, and a girl who can't seem to keep her mouth shut but it's ok cause the night's young.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy in the nighttime, howlin' at the moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theamazingpeterparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamazingpeterparker/gifts).



> i've never written fem!1D but amy is literally the best person and is so dear and near to me and even though i didn't have to nor was asked to i had to write something for her. something special. so here is a teeny tiny b-day present. i love uuuuu so much amyyyyyy. i hope you like this. happy birthday !!!
> 
> title: lost kitten by metric

She brings the tepid drink to her mouth licking at the seams where the sugar is now sparsely spread over the rim, it tastes bitter now that it’s borderline warm, the sting of alcohol sharp on her tongue. The condensation on the glass subsiding now that she’s had the drink nursing in her palms for about an hour now, she’d order another round but her words will probably come out knotted and she’s not too keen on spluttering out nonsense that she’s had a rather shit day. 

A loud thud against the fading cocoa-colored ceramic tiles startles her out of her dazed stupor, she looks over her shoulder to find a girl desperately clinging onto the upended chair as she lays on the grimy floor. God only knows that the bar floor has seen better days, even from where Niall is sitting she can see how it’s lined with sticky beer and there is a stray potato wedge stuck between the foot of the table and the floor it’s sat on. Niall starts to turn when the girl wails out a cry, the dramatics not ending with her fall, “My life is over. This is it, this is where it all ends.”

She clicks two and two together and realizes, just another dramatic breakup maybe. As if she hadn’t hit the nail on the head a boy rounds to where the girl is laying on the floor - probably the boyfriend - and nudges her head with the toe of his boot clad foot. Never mind, best friend. 

With a plonk the girl straightens up the seat, falling back in the chair and resting her head on her crossed arms and that sets an end to the Moronic Episode of Drunken Customers. 

Niall brings her attention back to her own drink, the margarita nothing but a trickle of droplets. She waves down the bartender ordering a beer, finally, and shifts in her seat, making herself more comfortable. The boy who took her order barely catches a breath when another body slides next to him, "what did you order?" 

Niall looks up from the glossy bartop stopping herself from counting the cracks and crevices that have embedded themselves into the wood over the years and sighs into an answer, "a cold beer." 

The girl clicks her teeth together indignantly, "you've gotta have some terrible taste mate to down a beer on this fine Friday evening."

"You say so but don't think your cry for help went unnoticed," Niall retorts, taking a sip almost in spite of the girl of his cold drink. Fuck these Brits and their weak buds.

The girl is an inch or two at most shorter than Niall herself, sporting short brown hair that's been parted to the side with her fringe laying flat on her forehead, a streak of bright pink running through it. 

Her nails are cut short as well, painted an azure blue, or something, and Niall is slightly bothered at how they’re chipped around the nail bed. Her features are edgy, blue eyes just like herself but sharper, the kind that only soften every once in awhile and Niall wonders what causes it. Who causes it. 

She's tapping away at the countertop when the bartender comes back hoarding her drink and sliding it towards her, she takes a healthy gulp, turning to Niall again. 

She raises a flimsy finger at him pointedly, "you're a vampire."

In movies when a resounding declaration is being made the surroundings sort of drown down to silence but right now the girl is saying it so flippantly that the room barely bats an eye, “I've no clue what you're on about.” 

Sure, the world has somehow come to an agreement that supernatural beings exist and they're going to let them be. Doesn't mean Niall can't keep up charades about who or what she is. 

The unknown stranger who's yet to introduce herself moves forward, making Niall swivel her stool to face her, the girl slotting herself between Niall’s thighs, “you are. I know you're the type who comes round here every other week.” She looks over her shoulder, then peeks at the stage where some grunge indie band has been playing for the better part of the night, and then back at Niall. Her eyes are dancing with mischief, “who’s your prey tonight, love?” 

Niall entertains the idea of playing along, maybe letting her guard down for tonight, “haven't found one yet. No one’s quite right, y’know?” 

The tense strain in her shoulders that has found a home over the years rolls off easily, the buzz that's been absent in her veins since the beginning almost reignites, looking at the very alive and very human girl. “You should bite me,” the fairy-haired girl suggests, pushing her fringe by scrunching the tips of her fingers and using them to move the thin hair to the side so it doesn't obstruct her sight. “You should turn me into one of you lot.”

And almost immediately the smile that had creeped its way to Niall’s face falters. Humans have this sense of complex where everything they do they want it to be immortalized. And what better than immortalizing themselves. Niall collects her purse, mouthing foul words under her strict breath and pushes out of her chair, making the girl trip backwards into the adjacent stool. 

She makes a point of ignoring her calls and walks out into the brisk air, the summer air still cool at night, and pulls her bomber jacket - with all those letterman patches - tight to her chest. There is a slam behind her and the stranger who has seemingly decided that she’ll be accompanying Niall joins her, “Soz, I upset you but like I just want to turn.”

Niall stops walking, promptly turning and screwing up her face - never been good at hiding her feelings - and says swiftly, “Listen, I'm sure you're great and you have fantastic ideas that will better the society and hence you want to live forever - y’know dying being your only weakness or somewhat but I'm not some production site where I just turn people to vampires.” 

The girl strides into Niall's face, affronted at the response, “I don't wanna live forever you arse! I just.” The slump of her shoulders makes Niall’s heart twinge, or whatever is in substitute of a heart, “I'm sad. Yeah, and I'm saying it loud and it's not nice but I'm sad. And I've heard that when you're bitten by a vampire it's an excruciating experience so like I was hoping…” 

Her voice small, faint, “that if it's painful enough it can make me forget about this pain. About Zayn.” She’s pointing towards her chest where beneath the skin and the bones the dainty little organ pumping blood lies. For all the decades she has spent surviving against all odds this is by far the most painful task. 

“Ok, alright, can you like stop with the,” she scrunches up her face, gesturing vaguely at the tears trickling down the girl's face. 

“I've also read that vampires are absent of emotions, is it true?” the girl bounces back in an instant, the shift in demeanor has Niall surprised.

Niall studies her a bit, taking in the red sleeved baseball tee and the tight black jeans that nicely fit the curve of her arse, trying to be subtle but horribly failing, “You've seemed to read a lot of books.” 

They fall into step as they steer across the pavement to the crosslight waiting for it to go green with the little pixelated guy still red and in a still position. The sky is clear tonight which is pretty average for late July but the crisp wind still has the girl beside her pulling the cuffs of her sleeves to her palms, and if it was someone else Niall wouldn’t have but something has her shrugging off her own jacket and handing it over to the girl. 

She graciously accepts it, nodding and slipping her arms through the sleeves, the pink streak in her fringe falling over her eyes as she fastens the buttons, “thanks. ‘M Louis by the way. Can call me Lou though.”

Niall doesn’t understand what she did or what even made Louis come up and talk to her but right as they walk across the pebbled street, the cobblestone that Ireland’s famous for, listening to the drowning uproar of drunken irishmen singing along to some patriotic anthem in pubs because of course it’s never too late nor early to celebrate St. Patty’s Day, she’s kind of glad she has someone to accompany her. The path is always the same, the road just gets a little lonely. 

They turn the corner to a dimly lighted street, Louis humming away to a tune that Niall can’t pick apart, she’s heard before but, “are you going to be following me all night then?”

The corners of Louis’ lips turn upwards, she’s not wearing lipstick, just a thin line of neon green eyeliner across her eyelid, it looks good. “Maybe,” she drawls out, her hands clasped behind her, her figure leaning forward, “what do you think?”

Something tells Niall she’s in for a long one, “I think you should go home and leave me alone.” 

This side of the town is quieter, there is a clinic which closes after 10 since it’s private, they mostly treat children - a special pediatrics comes in every morning tending to kids with flu. A long time ago, Niall had stolen a bag of blood, a fresh delivery that was to be sent out after the town’s annual blood drive. She especially takes this route home just to remind herself she might’ve deprived someone of blood, someone who needed it. Not some sort of masochistic routine, but instead to make her feel responsible; alive or not, she has responsibilities. 

“I am a parapsychologist who is rather keen on vampires,” Louis admits, “I know it’s not my speciality but I’ve been researching and working to find a balance.”

Niall doesn’t stop albeit amazed at the confession, a motorcycle passes by them, honking at them to get out of the main road; it was empty so they weren’t paying attention. “Looks like you’re sobering up,” Niall notes, “feel like you’ll be a handful now.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Louis snips. Something catches her eye and Niall has to look ahead to see what, it’s an ice cream stand, one of those that are found at carnivals with a vibrant yellow umbrella canopy, and a freezer cart, a plastic countertop lined with bottles of sprinkles, crushed oreos and other toppings. Before Niall can catch up she’s being pulled into its direction, her left hand gripped with slender fingers. They halt in front of the stand, Louis raising two fingers, their hands still entwined, “can I get a double chocolate scoop and vanilla bean?” 

The man nods, scooping the requested order into a waffle cone that’s about as big as Louis’ face, and hands it to her, looking at Niall expectantly after. Niall smiles politely, “I’ll be good, thanks.”

With an indignant pull of her hand, Louis jests, “on a fuckin’ diet, mate?”

Niall rolls her eyes not really bothered, picking up on the fact that the more sober Louis gets the easier it is to slip into this back and forth banter, or maybe, this is how it always is. “Don’t happen to like ice cream.”

Her jaw drops quite comically, the ice cream man poking her elbow to get her attention and his well-earned money. Louis’ mouth twitches like she’s holding off on something, “I can’t believe the dead have no conception of joy and happiness.” 

Niall doesn’t take it to heart of course, offers to hold Louis’ ice cream while she scours for spare change in her bag, it’s a draw string with a pirate skull grinning graphic printed in the middle. She hands over the money, a bill and a few coins, and hooks her arm through Niall’s.

“Back in Uni we used to go over to Dairy Moo’s, by we I mean me and my mates, and cause a ruckus while drinking milkshakes, proper laugh.”

“So your dramatics were quite present in Uni too?”

“Excuse me, my pet raccoon died today. I'm in mourning.”

“Oh, you didn't tell me Zayn was a raccoon? My condolences.” 

And for the first time all night Louis splutters out into a cackle. 

Niall’s not aware how long they walk, or when they pass the central roundabout with the horse statue, or when they come to stand at the bank of the river that runs along the end of the town, but they are. Niall learns that Louis is 24, that she’s travelled to several parts of the world; England being her favorite cause home. She learns that Louis’ been working on her thesis over the coalition with the supernatural world, learns that dogs are her favorite, that she’s the oldest to 5 siblings. Likes her tea with no sugar and when she laughs, the right kind not the tipsy one that she’d been howling all night at the club, her eyes crinkle. Niall learns that Louis’ all sharp edges with a soft core. Louis is loud, but it’s ok cause so is Niall.

They are laying at the river bank, shoes discarded on the damp soil, hair spread over the dewy grass beneath them, with the tips of their toes dipped in the cold water.

“And then Liam slipped on stage which made the feather bucket fall on him instead. Poor lad spent all of graduation covered in chicken fur,” Louis softly croons, her laugh faint, close to a mumble. Niall wants to meet Liam, and Harry. But knows to ask otherwise.

The crickets’ chirping perfectly fall into a rhythm with the river, the hush of the water flow echoing and for a minute Niall can hear Louis’ heartbeat in sync with it. To be fair, the lull of the night and the mottled moonlight makes the short haired girl look radiant. Louis staring at the empty sky, her voice bleating, “been in love ever?”

Niall shakes her head no, pauses realizing her mistake, but Louis’ already saying, “I have. Twice.”

There is an itch on the inside of Niall’s wrist but she says still, doesn’t want to look rude, wants Louis to know that she’s listening, “Her name was Eleanor. And then there was Zayn.”

When Niall was born her family were overjoyed but that was short-lived. She was close to four, maybe five, when they were massacred by the villagers in Northern Ireland, back when Vampires were taboo, and supernatural beings lived in hiding. Niall was five when she lost how to find love so maybe if she knew she’d understand, but she doesn’t. Doesn’t mean she can’t sympathize. 

The nook of her elbow runs against the dirt when she slides her hand down and hooks her pinky with Louis’. The younger girl doesn’t move away, “how old are you, Niall?”

“200 years,” she roughly estimates, counting the times she’s watched the world turn upside down on it’s heel. Humans have the tendency to drive themselves into a corner; it’s a cycle. 

“D’ya really not feel anything?” Louis says out loud but there isn’t much to answer. 

Think it’s about an hour later when they get back on the road. Niall spots the little lot where she tends to leave her scooter, Louis’ still deep in conversation chattering off about her Uni days and how her mate Harry was her lifeline. Correction. Is. 

“Reckon, he was my first kiss before yknow figured out that I like girls,” she easily admits. She does that a lot. Edges towards secrets and lets them go to strangers, and Niall wonders if she's special. If this isn't always the case. 

They halt in front of the pastel blue vehicle, a brighter blue helmet hanging off the handle and it leaning on its stand in the lot. Louis scans it, “didn't take you for a rider?” 

“I dabble,” Niall grins. She doesn't feel as guarded as earlier. There is nothing disarming about Louis, not her mischievous grin nor her overly inquisitive personality. Niall likes that. Likes knowing she can be herself and not worry about a potential threat. 

She offers her own helmet; not having two. Louis gingerly accepts, slipping it over her head and strapping the latch under her chin. Niall settles on to the scooter, adjusting herself before humming towards Louis to get on. 

“Hold on tight,” Niall clutches the handles, pressing down on the pedal when Louis leans in. She twists her arms around Niall’s waist, “is that what you say to all the girls before you let them ride your scooter?” 

A prickle of heat tickles her ears, and she's sure a faint blush is accentuating the freckles on her cheeks, “not all. Just the special ones.” 

\--

They’re walking, now, along a trail towards the edge of the forest, a hill near sight where Niall had pointed her house to Louis - having to abandon the scooter near the bottom of the hill -, the quiet trudging of their feet drives a beat too long and then Niall says, “went to this small town called Sevilla, once. ‘S a small city in Spain, quaint town with brightly painted walls, yellow, orange and red. Me mates and I, nicked a bottle of cheap vodka from a hernando, and got pissed drunk. There’s this bridge, took a long time to be made, with circles that form a net at the bottom of the concrete overpass, they light it up at night with this luminescent white that makes the round shapes look like the moon, the empty cavities in between filtering in the streaky lights from the city over the other side of the bridge.”

They’re walking shoulder to shoulder, bumping into one another as the gravel gets more rubbly, “had me first kiss there. On the bridge.”

“Where’s he now?” Louis asks, only to quip, “scared him away?”

“Vampires are immortal, remember?” Niall brings herself to say.

Out of nowhere, unexpectedly there is a crackling sound above them and like the very unpredictable UK weather it starts downpouring. They are still a little ways from the house, but evidently they make a run for it, hands gripped tightly together, as Louis cusses up a storm of her own. 

There is an awning right outside the door to Niall’s place, the kind that stretches over the front gate letting them shake out the wetness from their now drenched clothing. They are standing on top of a cement step, the shade protecting them from the water, when they burst out laughing. Louis’ cheeks are a hue of pink, the bomber jacket sagging down her shoulders. Niall’s own crop top dripping. 

Louis runs a hand through her hair while Niall unties her ponytail, letting her hair fall loose but looks up to find Louis staring. Blushing. Niall looks down and the thin material of shirt has gone see-through, her neon blue bra showing, and she feels the twinge return. She stand up straight, the ends of her bangs tickling her face, bracketing it. 

Louis steps forward, the pink in her hair and green over her eyes and the rain making her breathtaking, and asks, “is it ok if I kiss you then?”

Dumbly, Niall nods. Niall is always cold, her skin pale in winters and summers, but the cold touch of Louis’ lips against her own sends a shiver down her spine, their lips numbly moving around each other. Louis’ clings to her, snaking an arm around Niall’s waist tugging her in and Niall obliges. She places a solid hand on the small of Louis’ back lightly tracing circles with her thumb. 

Louis tastes like summer, Niall imagines. The sand in-between her toes, the saccharine syrup of Popsicles, the burning heat. She tastes like the ocean meeting land, the salt in the sea, like sun-kissed skin. And it's like, she isn't sure if she's ever even felt that or experienced that, but Louis has. And she can tell. 

And her? Well, Niall doesn’t kiss people. She doesn’t kiss anyone because sometimes she remembers a familiar face while she’s trekking through the woods, or taking a midnight swim, and there is a memory she desperately tries to erase because sooner or later they leave and it’s ok because it’s life. But no one has tried to stay either, convinced herself that emotions are human, though right now she feels warm and safe and at ease. So, she doesn’t think. She licks the seam of Louis’ mouth and hopes tomorrow will be just like today. Like summer rain and hearts aflame. 

Louis pulls back, breath short, “you’re not gonna bite me are you?”

Niall shrugs, entangling her fingers with Louis’, “nah, but can invite you in for a cuppa.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos comments and all that jazz! come say hi at zaynohmighty.tumblr.com


End file.
